


Predispositional Misjudgement

by bestcoast



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent (Movies) RPF, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, insecure!caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestcoast/pseuds/bestcoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a tumblr prompt from thexth.<br/>Written for a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predispositional Misjudgement

I may have chosen Erudite but trances of Abnegation still linger within me. If I can extend aid to another, it is my responsibility to do so. 

At the time, this had sounded like a profound reason to cede my room to the Dauntless refugees still in need of sleeping quarters, however, I’m beginning to regret my decision now. 

“I could always share with Tess, and you and Peter could take this room.” 

Adaline’s voice drifts from beside me and I finally turn to her, unaware how long I’d been staring at the ajar bedroom door. 

“If you want to, then you should.” I reply.

Well of course she wouldn’t want to bunk with me. It was irrational of me to even consider the possibility. 

“Right.” 

There’s a note of dejection in her voice and a hesitance in her footsteps as they move away from me. My hand shoots out to catch her shoulder but I resist the impulse and let my empty hand drop back down against my side. My fingers curl into my palms in frustration. 

I wouldn’t have minded sharing the room with her. In fact, I looked forward to it the moment I concluded there wouldn’t be enough rooms to house all of the Dauntless fugitives here in the Amity sector. 

I walk into the room with heavy feet. 

It’s simple in its design but still far more luxurious in comparison to the Abnegation bedrooms. All the furniture is carved out of fine wood and the room holds a strong, Mahogany scent. I distinctly associate it with Adaline. 

“Caleb?”

I lift my eyes from the detailed pattern curving over the dresser and see Adaline hovering in the doorway. Her arms are crossed and her leg is lightly shaking. I glance around the room but can’t find an origin point for a drift. If she isn’t cold then why are her muscles rigid?

“Um, Tess refuses to leave Peter so,” She uncrosses her arms, her shoulders dropping, and runs a free hand through her dark hair. “I think we’ll have to share this room.”   
I watch her eyes flit past me and focus on a point over my shoulder. 

Why is this making her so uncomfortable? I find my stomach tightening at the prospect she finds sharing a bed with me, platonically of course, this repulsive.   
“Don’t worry I’ll take the floor.” I mutter and turn around. 

Perhaps the less I see of her the less hurt I’ll feel by this. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” She replies with a lightness in her voice. 

I wait for the condescending tone to follow but silence prevails instead. 

I lightly shake my head and remind myself I am not someone she’d ever want. She belongs with her own kind; the Dauntless men. Even if my wit exceeds the brawn of her fellow faction members, it does so without being worthy of her affection. She’s beautiful and kind, and I am a stranger by comparison. 

“I’m not looking for a favor, it’s alright.” 

She doesn’t hesitate in her reply. “Caleb you’re not sleeping on the floor.” 

There’s a fierceness in her voice that drives me to turn around towards her. She’s standing a lot closer than I remember her being. 

I see her arm raise and feel her hand on my forearm, and all I can think about is pressing closer to her; to feel her soft curves under the palms of my hand and to let the scent of Mahogany, fresh rainwater, and something so distinctly her invade my senses. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor.” 

Her voice leaves no room for arguments and frankly I can’t think of a reason to oppose her anyways. 

I nod and suppress the smile threatening to climb upon my face. 

She’s just being kind, I remind myself, she wouldn’t really want to sleep next to you. 

She offers one more smile, bright and sincere, and I catalogue it in my mind because smiles as radiant as hers should always be appreciated. 

I watch as she turns away from me and walks into the bathroom, the door closing behind her with a soft, audible click. 

I turn to the dresser and riffle through the drawers for a change of clothes. I pull out a pair of soft, tan pair of cotton pants, and a long-sleeved, orange shirt. I hastily discard my Erudite blue, dirt streaked trousers and slip into the Amity bottoms. While I’m not over enthusiastic about the change, I can’t complain against the material’s comfort. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it atop the pants next to the door. 

I hear the door open again just as I’ve pushed my head through the top of the orange tunic. I know the bare of my back is on display and I hope she can’t see the blush rising up it. I quickly tug the material down my chest and roughly strain against pulling my arms through the sleeves. I don’t need her to see me like it. It’s no secret I’m not built like the men she knows. 

I turn around and she only has one foot outside the bathroom, her arms raised but frozen in the act of untying her hair. 

I suddenly feel embarrassed, more so than before, and my arms cross over my chest protectively. So I’m not built with bronze arms, so I lack the Dauntless thunder and power in my voice and steps, why isn’t my brilliance enough? 

I clear my throat, chest aching, and she quickly averts her eyes. I see the tips of her ears redden for a moment only, before she pulls her hair loose and a curtain of black falls to frame her face. Her dark brows and eyes contrast against her fair face, and it gives her a sharp authority that has your instincts skittering away to comply her orders. It isn’t difficult to see why she’s a strong solider. 

I walk towards the bad and pull back the heavy covers, trying to convey a placid attitude when in reality my heart’s pounding against my ribcage. A thousand scenarios of this night that end in her leaving and never speaking a word to me again bombard my mind. 

She must at some level sense my hesitance because I hear a soft sigh escape her lips and the next moment I’m quite literally being pulled down next to her. She flips the light beside the bed off, tugs the covers over our frames, and settles her head on the pillow not even a whole four inches away. 

“Goodnight.” She whispers and her warm breath fans out over my nose. 

She tucks her hands under the pillow and closes her eyes, and I’m afraid to move. I’m overly aware of every points of contact. Our forearms are pressed against each other and her knees knock against mine. I can feel the heat from her body and her steady breathes against my face. I suddenly thankful for the darkness to conceal my blush. 

I consider waiting until I’m sure she’s asleep to sneak out and find an armchair in the gathering room to spend the night in, but before I’m aware the steady rise and fall of her chest lure me into sleep as well. 

It’s the best sleep I’ve ever had. 

The sunlight filtering through the windows baits me back to conciseness and the first thing I realize is my arm is asleep. The second thing I realize is that I’m violating every personal boundary I’m unaware of, but certain exists between me and Adaline.

My taller frame is curled around her back and her head rests on my arm. My other arm is curled around her waist, and our fingers are intertwined and pressed against her heart. I should move away. I can feel the warmth radiating from her body settling under my skin like honey and I smile against her hair. I’ll move away in a minute. Certain by the steadiness of breaths that she’s still asleep, I press closer and rest my face against the crook of her neck. I should wait for her to wake up; I don’t want to be rude. I ignore the voice telling me I’m being ridiculous and bask in the comfort of the morning. I’m certain I would like every morning to reenact this one. I wonder if someday she might too. 

Minutes pass by quickly and the time I spend laying with her slips through my fingers like fine sand. The door to the bedroom is rudely thrown open and I see Peter leaning in, arms braced against the woodwork frame. 

“Good, you’re both already awake. They want us all down for breakfast.” 

He turns and leaves the door ajar, and I can hear this loud, Dauntless footsteps recede down the hall. I wonder how fast I can bolt though the open door.   
I don’t have a chance to consider the notion before she suddenly shifts in my arms and smiles brightly up at me. 

“So you were awake too.”

I open my mouth but words fail me and a blush rises to my cheeks. She notices it, much to my dislike, but she doesn’t pull away or throw me out. Instead she shyly leans forward and presses her lips against mine. It’s a dry press of lips and our breaths are sour, but it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had. 

She leaves the bed to use the bathroom first and I lie starring at the shut bathroom door. It’s quite possible I’ve been misjudging everything up to this point. 

By the time I walk down to the dining hall I’ve resigned to trying to stop smiling. Tris notices the wide grin tugging at the corners of my mouth but she doesn’t comment on it.   
I home in on Adaline across the hall balancing three plates and I instantly reach her side taking two off her hands. 

She grins and says, “My strong hero.” 

My smile widens to what I’m sure is inhuman proportions, and I’m afraid I’ll never stop smiling around her.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pure pleasure - hope you enjoyed!


End file.
